


Out

by d0nquix0te



Category: Daredevil (Comics)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-29
Updated: 2012-08-29
Packaged: 2017-11-13 03:45:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,153
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/499108
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/d0nquix0te/pseuds/d0nquix0te
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>All the newspapers in New York are plastered with similar headlines: Is attorney Matt Murdock the masked vigilante Daredevil? Peter stops by Nelson & Murdock to make sure his friend is okay.</p><p>(Story based on the feels I got from reading the comic arcs "Underboss" and "Out" in Daredevil volume 2.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Out

Since waking up that fateful morning, the world has been a cacophony of commotion, more so than usual. While normally so good at blocking out the unnecessary, Matt finds it impossible to focus now that everything has blown up around him, stressing him out to the point of near madness. His senses are constantly assaulted by everything around him as a reminder of his special abilities, a reminder of who he is, because he’s no longer both the handicapped lawyer and the masked vigilante, he’s just Daredevil, all the time, there’s no off switch. He can't be just Matt anymore.

Matt escapes to his upstairs apartment, telling Foggy he needs some time to cool off before they continue talking about this, about how they’re going to react to the media attention and how they might be able to play this off as a prank or a misunderstanding. He can still hear and smell everything from the offices downstairs even as he reaches the top floor. He hears working computer parts and Foggy tapping at the keyboard. He smells ink on paper and the coffee dregs from their morning beverages. The stairs creak. Everything breathes. There’s a third heartbeat in the building. 

It isn’t familiar like Foggy’s but it’s a rhythm Matt’s learned to recognize over time. He locks the apartment door behind him to give them more privacy. Privacy will be fleeting now, a rare commodity, and so will the solitude he usually cherishes in between serving justice. 

“What are you doing here?”

“Hi to you too, Magoo,” Peter drawls as he drops from the ceiling and gracefully lands on his feet. “I thought you might want to talk but I can go.”

He turns towards the window, presumably where he came in, but Matt grabs his wrists to stall him as he thinks. He’s used to angles and factors and big pictures, but sometimes Peter confuses his methodical lawyer mind and leaves him scrambling to make sense of things. Peter waits patiently for an answer.

“I didn’t mean to snap at you,” Matt starts, “but it’s dangerous for you to be here. Just because my identity is on the line doesn’t mean yours has to be as well.” There’s no way Peter isn’t privy to the news already, it’s a media circus out there and if he didn’t see it on the television, he works for a newspaper that loves getting dirt on any person in a mask. There’s no other reason for him to be here, otherwise. 

“That’s why I wore my street clothes,” Peter explains, gesturing at himself with his free hand. “And I was careful no one was around when I climbed through the window, I swear. No one saw me and even if someone did, they aren’t going to know who I am.”

Matt nods and lets go of Peter’s wrist, walking around the kitchen island to pour himself a glass of water. “Do you want anything?”

“Nah.” Peter sits on a stool and picks up an apple from the bowl on the ceramic, spinning it around between his hands, fidgety. “What are you going to do?”

It’s the question of the day, the week, the century. Matt doesn’t know if this will all blow over (it’s not likely) or if it’ll make his life miserable until the people either get what they want or he dies (much more likely). He’d thought his dual-identity was safe for a while, he’d been careful, but the effort was in vain and now he needs to figure out his next move. Plead guilty. Plead innocent. Plead the fifth and stall for time. 

If it were anyone else in Matt’s kitchen, he’d lie. “I don’t know,” he says instead, because he doesn’t feel the need to impress Peter or keep his cool in front of him nor does he feel judged by him. “Foggy wants to deny until we’re blue in the face but I wonder if it will only worsen the situation when some evidence gets out that we can’t deny at all.” 

Matt sits beside his friend and takes his sunglasses off, setting them down on the counter. Peter keeps spinning the apple. “If you need help, I’ll do whatever I can. Bet Danny and Luke would lend a hand, too.”

“You three have done enough for me,” Matt replies. “And it’s not like I can join Heroes for Hire. I can’t be forthcoming with my identity like they can.” It would all be so much simpler if he could just be honest, but that’s not the hand God dealt him.

“Whatever you choose, I’m on your side.”

“You shouldn’t be.”

“Too bad, you can’t get rid of me now.” Peter grins. “You know I have a habit of sticking to things.”

Matt actually laughs at that, even if it’s kind of a lame joke and it doesn’t make him feel better in the grand scheme of things, but it is entirely _Peter_ , Peter who’s lighthearted but serious and clever enough to protect his own identity, wholesome and courageous enough to protect everyone who needs protection. He doesn’t treat Matt differently, doesn’t judge or shy away. Matt hears Foggy sigh downstairs, a tired and aggravated sound, so unlike the playful but helpful way Peter conducts himself with ease. 

Matt looks up, unseeing eyes slowly finding Peter beside him. He sees Peter in laughter and the sound of his voice, his heartbeat, in the smell of red spandex and camera film. 

“I’ve told you before, Matt. You’re one of the good guys. You’ll make the right call.” 

Matt isn’t sure he believes it, but Peter definitely does, and that’s enough. 

The air seems to rearrange itself in front of Matt’s face and then dry but soft lips press lightly against his cheek, closer to the corner of Matt’s own lips than Peter maybe intended. Matt can feel the heat off Peter’s skin that tells him they’re still close, that if he turns his head slightly and leans forward he might capture Peter’s lips, but instead he stays still in silence, enjoying Peter’s presence so close and thinking of that closeness in a different way than he usually does. 

Inevitably it’s Peter who breaks the silence, quietly asking, “Matt?” He sounds almost nervous.

As an answer, Matt smiles and lifts his fingers to Peter’s face so he can feel him smile back. “Thank you,” Matt says. 

The next kiss does land on the corner of Matt’s lips and then Peter’s gone, backing away towards the window, though Matt can hear him chuckle under his breath. “I’ll be seeing you tonight, Hornhead.” 

Matt listens to Peter climb down the side of the building, hears his heartbeat slowly fade as he heads back towards home. He doesn’t know if Peter means they’ll see each other in costume as they monitor the city or if he means something more intimate. Matt hopes it’ll be both.


End file.
